


Bow Down to Me

by wutthequiznack (birbsandemidogs04)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), First Kiss, Gay Keith (Voltron), I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Half-Siblings, Lance is a Prince and also a mess, M/M, keith is a pretty princess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 17:16:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15999755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbsandemidogs04/pseuds/wutthequiznack
Summary: "You know-" Lance started, stuttering, not planning what he was about to say. "I started off the evening annoyed, and at some point I only wanted to expose you, but now I feel like this isn't such a bad birthday after all."The fondness in Keith's eyes was overwhelming - it made Lance nervous, like Keith had just fallen in love with him or something. "Are you sure?" he asked gently. The wind picked up then, waving his tendrils of hair softly around his face."Yeah." Lance nodded. "I mean, my parents won't really care when we go back. They probably think I'm deflowering a princess right now, you know."Keith snickered, eyes shining. "Parents, huh?""Yeah." Lance agreed.He stopped to stare - he couldn't help it.Keith was beautiful. There was a certain other-worldliness about him that, when illuminated by the soft, feeble, chalky lights of the night sky, revealed a crisp dark aura. It surrounded him like a glow, rolling over his milk-white shoulders and arms and around his slim waist, tracing his form before Lance's eyes."Hey, uh - you may not actually be a princess, but you do look like one." he murmured, almost embarrassed.ORThe Prince AU.





	Bow Down to Me

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"Lance, I'm telling you, we're going to get in trouble. And I cannot get in trouble with your parents again - I'll be banished or something."

Lance glanced back at his whiny friend with a devious grin, one that showed all his teeth, not unlike a shark coming upon his prey. "Come on, Hunk, relax. My parents aren't gonna catch us this time. I've got the whole surveillance thing down to a science."

"You sure about that?" Hunk asked anxiously, darting after his friend as fast as the relatively quiet castle would allow him. "Cuz the last time you thought the guards weren't watching… they were."

"Look, just trust me, ok? This time, I know exactly where they are. What time is it?"

"It's _too_ late," Hunk groaned.

"Two AM. Right. The guards have no surveillance right now."

"And… how do you know this?"

Lance flipped a hand back and forth as he sprinted carelessly down the long, maroon hallways of the castle. "Don't worry 'bout it. Cos I, my friend, am a genius."

Hunk peeked nervously into the passageways they passed on their way to the drawbridge leading out of the castle, and marveled that Lance seemed to be right so far. "Wow, we might actually make it out." he remarked.

"Actually?" the Prince scoffed. "We will."

At the drawbridge there was one singular guard, stoic but yawning his complaints into his spear, carried defensively at his side and pushed into the marble floor.

"Uh, Lance? Isn't he a problem?"  
Hunk was already turning to go back with these words uttered - but Lance just grinned rogueishly, still at ease.

"Nope. All's ya gotta do is know how to talk to him." he alluded, and swaggered up to the guard. Clearing his throat, he adopted his father's deep tone of voice, rough like sandpaper - of course. Hunk had been in awe of Lance's dead-on impersonation of the king the whole time they'd been friends.  
"Sir, you are relieved of your duties as door-keeper this night. You are to leave the castle and sleep until the morning shift. Are we clear?"

Because of the thick helmet obscuring his vision, the guard luckily could not see much and therefore was fooled even by something as simple as the Prince and a friend in their street clothes. He bolted upright, suit creaking and nodding his appreciation. "Yes, your majesty. Of course. Thank you, my gracious lord."

When he opened the drawbridge, Lance turned to Hunk with the same smirk on his face as before. "Eh? What'd I tell you?"

Hunk sighed in annoyance. "Let's just go."

All three of them left the castle with no authorization.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

"Here's that golden duck you wanted," Keith placed a rusting but distinctly gold-coloured duck figurine on the desk of the pawn shop owner, who merely looked over his newspaper at it.

"Well done. Two hundred, as promised."

Keith held out his hand for the currency, a sense of relief coursing through his veins at the touch of the paper. Pocketing the money in his fanny pack, he silently calculated that now he only needed fifteen hundred more GAC if he were to acquire the medicine he needed. This was a far cry from the two million he'd needed when he'd first starting stealing.

Keith looked expectantly at the shop owner, and cleared his throat. "What else do you want?" he asked.

"Well, how much more GAC do you need?"

"1500."

"That's not too bad," the shop owner replied, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sure you could get ahold of that in two weeks."

"I might not have that long," Keith admitted, considering the thought. "I need the medicine as soon as possible. I don't know how long I have left."

The man put down his newspaper and regarded Keith as if he were about to reveal a hard truth. Keith hated that look. He had gotten it way too often over the years he'd been alive.  
"Look, kid, to be honest, I don't really need you to get things for me anymore."

Keith had prepared himself for rejection many times, but none stung so much as this time. Despite the fact that he had built up his walls for this especially, as he knew he wouldn't be working for this guy for long, the fact that he had lost access to the one source of his currency caused him to feel a sense of hopelessness. He considered pleading for work, but Keith never pleaded. He wouldn't start now.

He set his mouth in a hard line, vowing not to show emotion. "Fine. I'll find other work."

With that said, he turned to go out of the shop. Once he was outside he would be able to cry.

He felt someone clutch at his sleeve suddenly, and looking back realized it was the shop owner. "What do you want now?" Keith snapped. He couldn't stop the bite from escaping his voice.

The shop owner did not appear scared or defensive at Keith's response. His eyes were wide with understanding, and Keith saw wisdom in them that he recognized from his brother's eyes.  
"Look, I know how you're feeling. And I'm sorry that I can't help you anymore. But one thing I know about you, kid, is that you're a great bounty hunter."

Keith didn't respond. He knew that much already.

The shop owner let go of his arm, an invitation for him to flee if he so desired. Keith didn't move, curious despite his anger. "So let me give you a hint: you know how tomorrow is the Prince's birthday?"

"Yeah?" Keith responded. Truthfully, he had never cared much for the royal family. He was only aware of the Prince's birthday because of the large and elaborate celebrations held in his honour every year.

"Tomorrow night, he turns eighteen. They're holding a big celebration on account of his becoming an adult, all the works and stuff. So there's gonna be this ball where all the girls get all prettied up and shit, that Cinderella thing, you get the gist."

Keith nodded hard. "Okay? How does this involve me?"

The shop owner shifted in his seat, and then presented his palms clasped together sideways, proposing a deal. "The castle's defences usually go offline for these parties, but this year, all the guards are taking a break to attend the ball. That means that nobody is going to see if you somehow slip inside… can you see where I'm getting at?"

"I guess. They have jewels and stuff?"

"Priceless jewels - garnets, emeralds, diamonds, anything you can think of. They keep it all in this big room at the back of the castle. You could slip in and steal it, piece of cake. Pawn it off and - ca-ching! - you're rich!"

Keith crossed his arms. Somehow something wasn't right with this plan. "Yeah, but how does a guy like me sneak into the palace? I mean, look at me."

He wasn't exactly royalty. Keith's everyday outfit consisted of a black T-shirt hidden under a grubby red-and-white jacket made brown from too many days without washing. His pants and belt were black for easy camouflage and his boots high and dirty from the sands kicked up in the desert-like terrain of the outskirts of town.

The shop owner nodded sagely. "Come on, Keith, connect the dots. Only princesses are allowed-"

"Uh-uh. No quiznacking way I'm doing that." Keith shook his head violently, finally realizing what was being asked of him. "Are you insane?"

"I think I could ask you the same thing," responded the shop owner evenly. "You'd have to be insane to pass up an opportunity like this. Think about it, Keith. Where do your loyalties lie? Are you willing to risk a tiny bit of embarrassment for the medicine that will save your family's life? Or are you going to give that all up just because you have to dress up as a girl?"

Keith frowned, considering his words. The shop owner was admittedly right, and he hated to acknowledge that. "Yeah, thanks for that." he snapped finally, storming back out of the store with what little dignity he had left.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"I turn eighteen today." Lance admitted to himself at his vanity as he combed out his short waves of brown hair. "Why aren't I more excited?"

It was true. He'd never been less excited for a birthday in his life. In truth, he loved the cumpleaños celebrations - they were always all-out extravaganzas that the whole kingdom attended, and made him feel so powerful. Usually.

Today he failed to feel anything in particular, least of all excited. Perhaps it was the grueling preparations and lessons in etiquette that had rid him of his anticipation. That was probably it. Lance hated the lessons with a burning passion. They involved the same set of actions done over and over until he perfected them - mostly bowing sweeping low to the ground, or how to handle food before guests.

He envied Hunk sometimes - the guy could practically do anything he wanted, and no one would scrutinize him because he wasn't royalty. Lance couldn't even be an actual teenager because of his parents' and the country's expectations. Sometimes he wished he could just live like a peasant, or a normal person at least, because then he wouldn't be trapped in the lap of royalty and expected not to scream.

Abruptly he got up from his vanity and grinned. "It's my birthday. I can't be depressed today. Today I have to become a man."

\--  
Keith.  
\--

On the morning of the Prince Lance's eighteenth, Keith woke at 6, like usual. His hut was silent, though glancing over to his side he saw his father and brother sleeping soundly on the wood floor. With a sigh he stood up and grabbed his jacket, throwing it over the street clothes he hadn't bothered to change from the day before.

In the corner of the room loomed his dress that he'd be wearing that evening - a roughly made piece of fabric he'd stitched in a hurry the night before, staying up until the early hours of the morning and pricking himself many times with the needle. It was at these times that he wished he had a mother to guide him through it, instead of his unresponsive male family members.

In comparison to the flouncy, colourful ball gowns of the actual princesses, this rag would definitely stick out like a sore thumb. Keith winced, scratching a gloved hand through his jet black hair as he regarded it. It actually caused him pain to look at. Truly, it was a hideous concoction. But what could he do at this point?

Looking ruefully back over his shoulder one last time, Keith stole out of the hut to clear his head and run through his plan again.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"Now, it is very important that you know how to handle yourself when these ladies arrive," the royal advisor noted. His moustache, the colour of Sunny D, twitched.

Lance stood before him in the royal suit he would be wearing later that evening. The golden epaulets weighed heavy on his shoulders and contrasted the blue velvet of the rest of the uniform like the sky at dawn. It was Lance's favourite outfit, but the responsibility of it all sat on his chest like a weight. His usual grin had been chased away.

The advisor, blissfully unaware of Lance's lack of enthusiasm, continued to coach him on etiquette. "You have been taught how to properly bow before a princess, by yours truly, of course," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye as he demonstrated. "Now we must learn how to address a princess, and how to dance with the one we've taken a fancy to."

Lance blinked. He would be more eager to learn if the dance with the princess was merely an opportunity to flirt and not an invitation for betrothal.

"First and foremost, one must learn what to do in the event that you take a shining to a princess and wish to address her." the advisor went on. Lance stared at his moustache, sparkling the colour of cheddar now.

"In the event that you see a princess you would like to dance with, you must approach her gently - as females are easily startled - and take her hand, like so."  
He took Lance's hand in one of his own. "Next, you must bend to kiss it. This will extend the invitation to dance. However, sometimes they need extra prompting. Then you will ask her, 'May I have this dance?'. If she says yes, then dance with her. If she declines, gently release her hand and nod.

"However, in the event that she accepts a dance from you, you must follow these exact steps. Step number one: smile. Always be charming. A princess loves a charming Prince, one who is confident and knows what to do."

Lance nodded as the advisor took his hand, pretending Lance himself was the princess. "Next you must pull her close, into your arms like so."

He tugged on Lance's wrist and pulled him to his chest, grasping his hands as if to start a waltz. Nervousness flooded Lance's psyche like he were actually dancing for real.

"Alright… I think you can just tell me the rest of the steps from here, Coran," he chuckled awkwardly, pushing away from the advisor and crossing his arms.

Coran simply shrugged. "Whatever will help you to learn more efficiently," he answered. "Step three would be to navigate around the ballroom with her - the dance, as it is called. You should already know the formation to be taken with the waltz - tonight, no new pieces will be played, so you will always know how you should be moving."

Lance nodded. "I think I got it."

"Are you quite sure?" Coran questioned. His eyes grew so wide sometimes that they made Lance unsure of even the most intrinsic of truths about himself, like his own name. "Do you need a review?"

"No, no, I think I'm okay."  
It took all Lance had to avoid his unwavering gaze and answer affirmatively. He could not get sucked into another lesson, not now. "Am I dismissed now?"

Coran took a look at his watch and promptly sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are dismissed. Well done this evening, your majesty."

"Thanks," Lance grinned, and left with the full intention of going back outside.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

Keith was speeding up and down dirty streets, searching for a fabric store. If he was to be even let into the palace in the first place, he couldn't have that hideous dress from before. He needed it to look perfect, and he only had three hours to do it.

In his haste he didn't look where he was going, and cut someone across diagonally, bumping hard into their shoulder and knocking them backwards to the ground.

This person was all legs, gangly and sprawled across the street. They wore a dark outfit and hood that, squinting, Keith recognized as navy blue. The person's eyes were briefly exposed to Keith, and he could read pure fear in them - but a fear that Keith recognized. A fear of being caught.

The apology he had in his throat remained there, his breath catching as the stranger stared at him.

He cleared his throat and stood, offering a hand to help the other person up. "Are-are you okay?" he asked cautiously.

The other person nodded, and the motion shook their hood off their head, exposing brown wavy hair and beautiful bronze skin, like Keith had never seen before. He gazed at the boy before him and felt his heart start up a rapid thumping. In some way the boy was familiar, but Keith didn't recognize him for his beauty penetrated Keith's eyes.

"I'm fine," the boy finally responded, and reaching up pulled his hood swiftly back over his head. "I have to go."

With that he rushed back in the direction he had come from, Keith helpless to stop him but longing to see him again.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

Lance dusted a stray speck of dust off his arm as he trudged on through the village. The impression of that encounter with the commoner had left him in a state of confusion and anxiety. His heart still pounded from the fear of it. Hopefully he had not discovered Lance's identity and would report him to his parents, who would only drag him back to etiquette lessons.

He had been outside of the palace for a couple of hours already, and though the summer wind was picking up and leafing through his hair, he couldn't feign excitement. Taking a deep breath he approached the market, not too far from the castle. The vendors shouting out their prices and wares always calmed him, as it was a welcome contrast to the constant quiet and neat of the palace.

He came to stand beside a fruit stand. Picking up an apple he twirled it between his fingers and contemplated eating it before realizing he had to pay for it first. Indeed, the shopkeeper was staring at him expectantly. "So you gonna pay for that, or what?"

Lance grinned. It was always humorous to be treated like trash on the streets, when he was always rolled out the red carpet at the palace. He liked being yelled at more. "Of course. How much?"  
He reached into his pocket, thumbing the emergency bills he had packed for situations such as these.

"A hundred GAC," responded the vendor gruffly.

"Here, take two hundred," said Lance, swiftly handing the vendor the bills. "Thanks a lot, sir."

The vendor's mouth dropped open as he registered the money in his hands. "Erm - thank YOU, sir! Have-have a good Lance-day, sir!"

Lance's smile wavered. He turned and bolted from the shop, the apple rolling in his grasp.

\--  
Keith.  
\--  
  
Keith returned home with a paper bag clutched tight in his fist, the contents of which were sashes of different colours that he might sew onto the poor excuse for a dress.

He was surprised to see his father and brother up and about. His father stood by the hut's only window, drinking something out of one of Keith's mugs. His brother Shiro was scrutinizing the dress from his makeshift bed. Both were dressed in everyday clothes, as if nothing was wrong with them.

They looked up when Keith entered and both smiled.  
"Hey, what are you guys doing out of bed?" Keith asked, his mouth dry.

Shiro shrugged. "We felt better," he admitted, but coughed slightly. Keith winced at the rattling sound of phlegm rising in his chest. "Well, a little." his brother added, squinting.

"It's good to see you guys," Keith admitted suddenly. It had been a long time since he had seen his only remaining family awake and conscious.

His father came over, his mug forgotten on the wooden table, and enveloped his son in his arms. "It's nice to see you too, Keith." he said simply, but the words were like therapy to Keith, who rested his head against his father's chest and clung to him, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

He barely registered Shiro joining the hug, extending an arm to wrap him in too. They were silent, hearts all beating at once like they had done once when Keith was younger. He felt swaddled, protected - safe. The feeling made him cry more.

"Where have you been?" Shiro asked once they parted. "What has my little half-brother been up to?"

Keith shrugged, unable to think of a way to phrase what he'd been doing. "I've been out," he replied, inclining his head slightly to indicate his resistance to discussion of the topic.

Shiro looked skeptical. "Okay, so what's that?"  
He pointed out the dress in the corner of the room.

"Er- that? It's nothing, it's just-" Keith started.

"Keith." their father interrupted. "What is going on, really? Is this about us being sick?"

Unable to look his father in the eyes, Keith sighed, and cast his gaze to the floor. "I've been trying to get enough GAC to buy some medicine." he said quietly. "I've been doing odd jobs around town and I managed to save a million. But I need 1500 more, so I-"

It was hard for Keith to continue, knowing that his family had values, imbedded within their skin and printed on their bones. Morals that Keith had been exposed to his entire life. "I'm going to sneak into the palace dressed as a princess, and - steal some jewels."

"Absolutely not." Keith's father said sternly, like Keith had known he would. "I've told you once and I'll tell you again - we will get the medicine by working for it. I will not accept you using stolen money to cure us."

Keith anger flashed on. He lifted his head and stared at his father defiantly. "Oh, yeah, Dad? We're poor! We're dirt poor - we live in a hut, for quiznack's sake!"  
He was shaking, his voice raising in volume louder and louder until he was numb with the sound. "How the hell are you supposed to get ahold of priceless medicine like that? Protecting your honour, protecting our morals! It's ridiculous, Dad!"

The tears were coming again, hot and wet and angry in contrast to the salty and sad from earlier. "How are you going to keep saving money when you're dead?"

Before either he or Shiro could respond, Keith shoved past them and tore the tattered fabric off its given stand, shoving it into his bag of sashes. He took off for his speeder, sitting hard on it and revving it up. Wherever he was going could be better than here at this moment.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

The sky outside was tinted navy blue. Lance stared up into the vastness from his marble balcony, in his royal blue-and-gold outfit, and felt his mood reflected in the sky. It was empty and hopeless and blanketing.

Waltz music carried out on the breeze, soothing him despite his uneasiness. It came from inside the palace, where his parents and Coran were setting up the ballroom for the arrival of the princesses. From what Lance had seen before he'd bolted up to the balcony, a few princesses had already arrived, decked out in their best and shiniest.

He would come down when he was needed. He sneered behind his hand at the thought of this small bit of revolution before committal to the night-long party that would help to decide which princess would be his wife. The lead-up to a lifelong commitment to his country and role as future king. Miraculously, eighteen years of preparation had not been nearly enough. Saying he wasn't yet ready to settle down would be an understatement.

Lance's chin fell upon his crossed arms as he draped himself across the banister, drinking in the stars on the last night he could be free from real responsibility. He wished more than anything that he could sneak out one last time, without worry he would be caught and herded back to the castle. Like that guy he'd bumped into, the one with the mullet of black tangles and deep amethyst eyes. That one. He was probably free. Just like every other ordinary teenager in town. Nothing like Lance.

He sighed. He couldn't leave now. Even if he did, his parents would track him down. He couldn't go out dressed like this and not attract attention. He'd be ratted out in no time. Being royal was not a winning game.

"Lance!" his mother's voice emerged, dispelling any further hope he could have held. "You need to greet the princesses!"

Lance's heart leaped. He swallowed hard, lips and tongue dry. "Coming, mother!" he cried, and flew downstairs before he could decide against it.

Thus would commence the end of his life.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

Keith knew the party was starting because the castle was lit up purple and gold with the shouts of hundreds of guests. He looked down at his dress and made a noise of approval at how it had turned out. Where there had once been puffs of fabric in triangular rips for sleeves, now there were two nearly-identical circular slits through which an arm could actually slip. The bust and waist of the dress, which had been made of mismatched, patchwork slabs of fabric, now were a monochrome red in a symmetrical rectangle, connected to the sash - a slightly orange flowy sash that would wind around Keith's legs and reach his ankles. For shoes, Keith had resigned himself to his usual desert boots. However much he had tried to polish them after rushing out of the hut earlier, they were still noticeably grimy. What could he do? It wasn't as if Prince Lance would be looking at his feet.

On the subject of his hair and face, Keith had constructed a makeshift veil that would conceal his facial features before Lance - save his eyes, which had always objectively been his girliest and most beautiful feature. His hair he had organized into a bunchy but flat series of buns that fit the style of the time, and he wore no makeup for fear that he might blow it.

The tear tracks, however, he could still feel on his face - the skin around them becoming crusted and tight. He wiped at the skin with a sleeve and took a deep breath in. "I need to do this." he told himself sternly. "I will get that medicine."

The dress in his lap seemed to wink up at him when he glanced back down, an omen of the evening to come. He groaned and gripped it, changing out of his dirty desert street clothes and slipping it over his head in under five minutes.

The dress wasn't perfect - the fabric was itchy, on the whole it was delicate, and he felt naked without pants on - but it would have to do. Besides, it was a lot better than what he had started out with. With a shudder at the memory Keith threw the veil over his face and stood from the ground.

It was time to see who was the prettiest princess of the bunch. And he was going to get there by motorcycle.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"Happy birthday, Prince Lance,"

"Thank you," Lance groaned. It was only six and yet he had heard from one hundred people that evening already. He had counted.

His mother the Queen simply continued smiling and nodding and waving, physically but not mentally present. The king was scrutinizing every move he made by comparison, yelping when Lance slouched in his chair even just slightly and periodically asking him why he hadn't yet chosen a wife.

Occasionally Lance would have to get off his throne and take one of the princesses onto the dance floor, but it was merely formality. His heart was nowhere near in it.

Near seven o'clock, his eyes were already closing.  
If not for the loud and cheerful festivities he would have fallen into the peaceful release of sleep.

He wondered if, by the time the night was done, would he have a betrothed? The thought was depressing and vague to him. It made him want to dash back up the stairs to his balcony, or downstairs and outside to the village, so as to buy another apple he probably wouldn't eat.

The temptation caused him to raise his head and scan the downstairs area of the castle, bared to his eyes from the podium of thrones above. There was an inumerable amount of princesses - a city of pastels, pink and purple and green and blue. So pleasing to the eye that they were like sheep, all the same and all unnoticeable. Lance's gaze jumped to the immense glass doors that were constantly opening and closing to welcome the visiting princesses, longing to push himself outside.

It was his last night to try anything like that. He wasn't yet eighteen, after all - he turned eighteen in just under an hour, at 8:05. He could technically sneak out under the guise of taking a walk.

Emboldened, he turned to his parents. "Mom, Dad - can I go take a walk for a sec?"

The Queen simply nodded, but the king regarded his son sternly, the vein in his forehead popping out. "Absolutely not! You cannot leave your guests, Lance."

"Why can't you and Mom just stay with them? Why do I have to be here?" Lance whined.

"In case you've forgotten, your Majesty," Coran interjected lightly as he greeted a princess. "it is your birthday. It would not really make sense if you weren't here for your own birthday."

"I've been here two hours already," pointed out Lance. "Please can I go?"

His father's response was strongly worded and negative, so Lance blocked out in favour of looking back around at the princesses.

One of them caught his eye especially - her dress was a ridiculous shade of red, and stuck out horribly among the others. Lance snickered - she didn't seem sure how to handle herself, either. She walked unsteadily and in a paranoid way, as if she were being followed. Intrigued, Lance got up from his throne to investigate.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

The castle was hard to miss. Keith arrived at just after half-past-seven, his back hunched in a self-conscious stupor, the fabric of his dress billowing slightly in the wind. The castle doors loomed large but bright before him. Light leaked out from underneath and flooded over his small form. He took a breath of the fresh air that came with the doors opening.

Just as the pawn shop owner had promised, there were no guards around the entire perimeter of the castle. Miraculously, it made Keith feel more uneasy. Without the extra protection, there would be no way to dissuade him from actually carrying through with this.

He stepped forth quickly, scaling the marble steps up to the ballroom and darting in among the princesses. Slowing down his pace he scoped out the area with his veil drawn.

Immediately above the ballroom were the thrones, upon which the king, queen and Lance sat as they surveyed the crowd of princesses. Sneaking closer Keith could see rows of doors behind the raised thrones. No doubt one contained the gems the shop owner had alluded to.

Which one though?

The only way to find out was to sneak inside each of the rooms without being spotted. Usually he would simply steal inside and nobody would bat an eye, but in this dress he was a dead giveaway. Uncertain, he wobbled on his feet before making up his mind to stay close to the walls and enter the first room on his right.

That was when he stumbled wide-eyed right into the Prince.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

The princess didn't even remotely notice Lance when he approached. She turned, literally stepping into his arms. He caught hold of her, expecting her own arms to be skinny and lacking in muscular density and receiving something else entirely. Her arms were built like a man's - defined and muscled and not at all ladylike.

Lance looked at her in shock - and, admittedly, awe - catching sight of her large, luminescent, amethyst eyes. Amethyst.

Was this the boy he had run into in the streets?

So many questions flooded Lance's brain, questions he realized he couldn't ask. If he acknowledged having met the boy, then he would reveal that he had been outside the castle. That he had snuck out.

So instead he let his grip on him falter.

"What's your name?" he asked.

The boy's startled purple eyes shrunk considerably at this question. He seemed to think only for a moment before responding, "Keena." in a surprisingly well-done girl voice.

"Well, Keena," Lance went on with a smile. "May I have this dance?"

The waltz that was starting up was the Waltz of the Flowers, by far Lance's favourite piece of classical music in the world. What better way was there to honour the waltz by dancing to it with the intention of revealing an imposter? Though some part of him was craving a dance with this boy, whom he had to admit was gorgeous, the overriding argument in his brain was one of competitive fervour. This was a challenge. Lance was curious about this boy - he needed to expose him for what he really was.

And he'd thought tonight wouldn't be a fun night.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

The moment Keith stumbled into the Prince and stared into his eyes, he recognized him as the same guy he'd bumped into the other day, in the village.

A mix of fear and excitement washed over him, leaving in its wake the intrigue he'd felt the moment he'd first set eyes on the boy.

He was the Prince. No wonder he'd fled so fast.

The temptation to reveal that he recognized him from the streets almost overpowered his discretion - if he let on that he knew the Prince, he would reveal his own gender by default. That would throw his whole plan down the drain.

So he would keep his identity a secret, and hope to escape the prince's gaze.

"What's your name?" asked the Prince, startling him. He returned to Lance's eyes and felt a sense of ease as he found a name flow to the forefront of his mind.  
"Keena," he replied quietly. His voice he disguised slightly, by raising it a few octaves.

He looked at Lance expectantly, as if to demand he let him loose so he could get to searching for the jewels, but Lance only regarded him with an amused crinkle at the corners of his eyes. "Well, Keena, may I have this dance?"

Keith's heart leaped at the proposition in spite of himself. The curious longing he had felt upon first meeting the Prince in the street intensified and spread around his entire chest, destroying any hope he could have had that he was going to get away with stealing the jewels.

"Yes, you may." he affirmed with a slight incline of his head. Waltz of the Flowers was playing, his favourite classical piece. He tried not to think about it, and instead pushed the jewels to the front of his mind, even as Lance took his hand and pulled him towards the centre of the ballroom.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

The guy had pretty smooth skin. His hand floated like a white petal above Lance's as he led him to the dance floor, and vaguely Lance could see markings left by habitual use of fingerless gloves. They would suit him. In an emo sort of way.

The transition from by each other's side to the waltzing position took place almost immediately. Lance aligned his right hand with his partner's waist - slim and yet toned, he could tell - and guided the guy's left toward his epaulets. He smirked as he linked their respective left and right hands together in the air, completing the embrace. The guy smiled clumsily up at Lance, his veil shifting so he could see it. It appeared as if he had never danced with another person before in his life.

On instinct (and, because Lance wanted to see how red he could make this guy) he pulled his partner close to him, close enough so that he could hear a slight gasp of surprise and see a brick-red blush stain the guy's cheeks.

"Ready, princess?" he intoned lightly, close enough to the guy's ear that he could hear his breathing stutter. His shoulder, milky white as sweetly scented hand cream, was slightly bared to Lance's gaze - suddenly, he wanted to touch more of this mysterious stranger's skin.

No - first and foremost was exposition. These thoughts had to go. He was strictly flirting so he could reveal to everyone who this guy really was.

The horns started up, introducing the clarinets with a soft, slow beat in threes. Lance began to move with the music. The guy in his arms followed his lead. With the flourish of clarinets and then flutes, he twirled the guy in his arms - surprisingly, he whirled without a hitch.

"Whoa, you're good," Lance murmured. "for a commoner."

The guy stared at him, eyes widened slightly. "I'm not-"

"Save it. I know that I saw you that day outside. You're no princess, man."

At that moment, the crescendo of flutes bloomed in Lance's ears, causing him to pull the guy closer and spin him faster, settling them into a rhythm according to the pattern of the music.

Breathless, his partner tried to protest, gripping onto Lance harder and trying hard to follow his pace. "Do you think you could slow down, at least?"

Lance looked right into his pleading purple eyes and grinned. "Nope. Keep up with me, princess."

\--  
Keith.  
\--

"Do you think you could slow down, at least?" Keith asked, dropping the high pitch of his disguise as he struggled to maintain the pace the Prince was setting. He hated the way he sounded like he was begging, at the mercy of this cocky, spoiled Prince.

As Keith had expected, Lance shook his head with a grin, biting his lip. "Nope. Keep up with me, princess." he replied. The flutter in Keith's heart returned, and with it an overpowering energy to win this dance.

He grinned back in an instant, tilting his head back competitively. "Oh, just watch me."

Lance's intrigued eyebrow raise was more than enough motivation to continue dancing. His hand lifted, twirling himself thrice on the spot. Each time Keith dared him to continue with his eyes, the only part of his face that Lance could actually see.

Their dance continued as such - during slower parts, Keith's skirt would billow like a sail as they shifted side-to-side across the marble floor, playing the part of love-struck princess to the best of his abilities, resting his head on Lance's shoulder at points just to gauge his reaction.

By the end of the song, both were breathing hard but grinning. The last few bars came with a twirl of Lance's wrist as Keith spun across the floor too many times to count, halting at the end with his hand still buried in the prince's. The rest of the princesses and the king and queen, their temporary audience, clapped enthusiastically, grins on their faces. It was hilarious to Keith that they all thought he was a princess, even now. He had successfully fooled them all. All except for Lance.

He looked to the Prince with lowered eyes, pangs of fear registering at the thought that he could very well be exposed now. One flick of his veil was what separated him from a life in prison, probably. He was completely at the mercy of the Prince.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

In the moments after the conclusion of the dance, amidst their hard breathing, Lance peered at the guy he had just twirled in his arms, who had been flush against him in an intimate embrace, curious about his story. Why was he here? Why had he disguised himself as a princess and slipped into the castle tonight? He must have some kind of motivation.

He released the guy's hand and motioned for him to follow as he led the way outside, through the open doors of the castle which filtered cool night breeze in.

He breathed in deeply, checking to make sure his partner was still behind him and nodding when he came into sight. "Where are we going?" the guy asked, voice hoarse. His skin, pale as china in the purple lights of the castle, was now almost luminescent amid the stars. The farther they walked away from the castle, the safer Lance felt. Pretty soon they were both on the outskirts of town, where the cobblestone path of the town met the grass of countryside.

"Away," Lance said after awhile, out of context. He stared up at the sky, beautiful and vast, even darker than it had been earlier. "Don't you just want to get away from everything sometimes?"

"Yeah, sometimes," replied his companion, sounding far-off. "So why are we out here?"

Lance turned to consider him, blinking as his eyes twinkled like the stars above. "I wanna figure out why the hell you were dressed as a princess at my party, but I didn't really feel like exposing you to my parents."

The guy simply stared at him, eyebrows drawn together as if debating whether or not to spill the beans. Finally he looked away, out at the stars, and spoke.

"If I told you, you'd probably throw me in jail. Or kill me."

"Nah, I'm not one for those kinds of things. That's usually my dad." Lance quipped.

The guy didn't laugh.

"How about you just tell me what your real name is?" Lance proposed. "Because I know for sure it isn't Keena."

"It's Keith," the guy responded after a second's hesitation. He didn't offer much more than this - but that was alright. Perhaps a name was all he could hope for right now.

"Honestly, I think Keith is a way less stupid name than Keena," professed Lance, watching the way Keith's eyes lit up with his smirk. The veil was still an obstruction - he longed to see the rest of the face underneath. "You can take off the veil now, can't you?"

Without a word Keith brought the fabric away from his face, twirling it idly in his arms so that it fluttered around on the breeze. His hair now flowed freely down his back, having been jostled from the violent dancing, and framed his jaw and forehead perfectly.

"Happy?" Keith asked, tilting his head.

He would never know just how pleased Lance was with this new vulnerability. Without his veil Keith's beauty wasn't hidden by a curtain - here, it was raw, totally exposed for Lance to see.

"You know it." he said vaguely. "Now tell me why you did it. No backing out."

\--  
Keith.  
\--

"Now tell me why you did it," Lance demanded, after Keith removed his veil. It now fluttered in the breeze from his hand, like a flag rumpled from the wind. "No backing out."

Internally Keith groaned. There were many problems with confessing his crime in his book - the first one being that he could very well be executed for breaking the law, the second being that he would never get ahold of the medicine at all, and then his only remaining family would die… plus, the Prince, whom he was developing a delicate relationship with, would cast him away forever.

He decided there was no way out of confessing. "Look, it's nothing personal or anything. Nothing against you or your family. I just really need money right now." he began. "My father and brother are really sick - they have some kind of coughing thing, and they're injured internally. The cure for that is insanely expensive, and we're not really a family of those kinds of means."

Lance was silent as he listened to Keith's story, only nodding slightly, his expression imperceptible.

Keith's voice stuttered. "I-I was pretty desperate to get the money for the medicine, no matter what I had to do. They're the only family I have left. So I started working odd jobs to save up, but they started getting worse and worse and the jobs were stupid, with maybe ten GAC every hour. I started stealing.

"I stole little but valuable things - golden figurines and stuff like that, and I'd sell them to a local pawn shop guy."

"So, you were like a bounty Hunter," Lance interjected lightly, surprising Keith.

"Yeah, kind of. He'd give me GAC for it, anyway. I earned money a lot faster that way. Right now I have about a million saved. I only need 1500 more. But the pawn shop owner doesn't need me anymore, so he told me where I could find some more. He told me that tonight here wouldn't be any guards around the castle because of your birthday-"

"-and so you dressed as a princess to get in and get to the jewels, right?" Lance finished. He only sounded vaguely annoyed.

Keith looked away from him, face burning slightly in shame. "Yeah. That's what happened."

"Well, you're a horrible seamstress,"

"Huh?"  
Keith glanced back over at the Prince, startled that he was making jokes after he had just told him he had intentions of stealing his family's prized jewels just for some GAC.

"and your plan is the dumbest thing I've ever heard." Lance continued.

Keith narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"  
He registered an insult in Lance's words, thinly shrouded behind his joking tone of voice.

"I mean, hello? Couldn't you have just stolen the medicine?"

Keith was amazed at the notion that Lance was criticizing him on his thieving skills rather than the fact that he was going to take from his own castle.  
"I guess," he admitted. In any case, it was an ingenious solution, and frustration registered in Keith's system that he hadn't thought of it before. "You're not even a little bit angry that I snuck in to take your jewels?"

Lance shook his head. "Nah. They're my family's jewels. Not mine. I really couldn't care less. It would serve my parents right if you had stolen them, anyway. They're pretty annoying once you get to really know them."

At a loss for a response, Keith remained silent. He eyed his dress. It was more tattered now in the light of the moon than he had noticed when he had first sewed the sashes into it.

"So why don't you steal it now?" Lance asked lightly, suddenly. His gaze was cautious and warm, gauging how Keith would respond.

Keith pondered this. He thought about how his father had reacted when he'd told him about his plan. He thought about how long he'd spent saving up his money pawning painfully for a year of his life. He thought about his brother Shiro, and how much more of his life he had left. His father. They were his last remaining family in the world. They were suffering. He didn't know what to do.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"So why don't you steal it now?" suggested Lance. There was nothing stopping Keith from taking the medicine he needed now. Lance certainly wouldn't stop him.

Keith didn't say anything for a long time. Lance could only guess at the position he was in. His whole life Lance had been a Prince, and though his family supressed his wishes, he was privileged. Moreso than Keith, by far.

"I don't know," Keith said finally. "my dad found out how I was getting the medicine, that I was selling things that I stole for GAC. He sort of forbade me from going to the castle."

"But you went anyway," Lance finished with a coy smile. "You're a rebel then."

"Not proud of it," Keith returned, running a hand through his loose raven hair. "I know they need it, I just don't know how to get it to them, I feel like they'll probably refuse to take it. My dad would rather die than go against his honour."

"Just inject them when they aren't looking," Lance joked, and Keith smiled for a few seconds before faltering. "Sorry."

"You know-" Lance started, stuttering, not planning what he was about to say. "I started off the evening annoyed, and at some point I only wanted to expose you, but now I feel like this isn't such a bad birthday after all."

The fondness in Keith's eyes was overwhelming - it made Lance nervous, like Keith had just fallen in love with him or something. "Are you sure?" he asked gently. The wind picked up then, waving his tendrils of hair softly around his face.

"Yeah." Lance nodded. "I mean, my parents won't really care when we go back. They probably think I'm deflowering a princess right now, you know."

Keith snickered, eyes shining. "Parents, huh?"

"Yeah." Lance agreed.

He stopped to stare - he couldn't help it.

Keith was beautiful. There was a certain other-worldliness about him that, when illuminated by the soft, feeble, chalky lights of the night sky, revealed a crisp dark aura. It surrounded him like a glow, rolling over his milk-white shoulders and arms and around his slim waist, tracing his form before Lance's eyes.

"Hey, uh - you may not actually be a princess, but you do look like one." he murmured, almost embarrassed. He could feel a chili-hot blush spread across his cheeks, and drank in the feeling as something akin to excitement.

His skin heated up with it when Keith smiled back, and gradually developed a dark pomegranate-red flush on his face. "You calling me beautiful?" he teased.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

"You calling me beautiful?" Keith teased Lance, cheeks still crimson and warm, heart pounding with the effects of heavy flirting.

Lance stepped closer, and Keith's heart buckled. "Yeah, because you are." he replied softly.

Keith stared into his eyes and fell completely in love with him. The feeling made him chuckle to himself - what an odd, unexpected way to end the night. "I'm no princess," he warned, on complete impulse.

"Like I said, I still think you're beautiful." Lance replied, his hands finding Keith's cheeks, anchoring himself there. "I think out of all the things that could have happened tonight, this was the best."

Keith said nothing. In that moment, there was nothing to say, nothing that wouldn't ruin the blissful night magic that Lance was weaving with his voice and touch. Yet - it was kind of strange. Strange that out of anyone in all the land, Prince Lance had fallen in love with Keith, a guy he'd met mere hours before, and whom he'd initially thought was a princess. Suspicion clouded his judgement, and he found himself bristling in preparation for rejection.

Lance felt it. Concerned, he tugged his hands away. "What's wrong? Did I say something?"

"I- I just-"  
Keith was struggling now. He had just had to trust his stupid walls again, as they came back up in the midst of his vulnerability. "I'm sorry - it's me. I just think it's strange that out of all the princesses on that whole dance floor, you went with me. I'm not even a princess. Besides, you've only known me for what, two hours? And we're telling each other things about ourselves, I just- it's hard for me to process."

"I get it." Lance said evenly, smiling still. "We're going too fast? I can slow down if you want."

"But- why?" Keith burst, his hands clenched slightly, clutching air. "Why me? It's like it's too good to be true - you're a Prince! Shouldn't you be turned off from me?"

Lance shrugged. "As a Prince, the list of things I shouldn't like is about as tall as me." he offered. "My parents would find fault with anything I did anyway. Besides, I think you're cool. I-I'm starting to like you."

Keith gasped at this admission. It paid to hear it being actually spoken out loud. His blush was angry as desert sand. "Shut up," he said suddenly, striding two quick steps closer to the Prince, ignoring his shocked protests to paw at his face.

Pulling it closer to his own, Keith plunged emotionally as his lips met Lance's - violent, fire and tide against rock at midnight. Lance's contribution was careful guidance into a gentler display of affection - his hands met Keith's waist as he slowed the pace, eyelashes fluttering almost against Keith's cheeks as the two of them melted, fire and ice, crystal and garnet, blue and red.

Keith's eyes stuck when he tried to open them, mouth pushing out pent-up air like emotions being uncapped.

"Guess you don't want to take it slow then," Lance gasped, hands still protectively encircling Keith's waist.

"Guess not," Keith agreed.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

"Guess not." said Keith. He was an excellent kisser, like Lance had assumed he'd be. He could usually tell which ones would be good - most of the time guys with soft-looking pink lips.

Lance grinned. "Good call, making me shut up. Do it again anytime in future."  
He stroked the exposed skin of Keith's arms. Goose bumps appeared almost instantly.

Keith shuddered. "Mm. Let's see if I have to do it again."

"Go ahead,"  
Lance's eyes flashed as he shot Keith a coy grin. Without missing a beat, Keith clutched at his suit and pulled their lips together, sighing once they made contact again.

Under the stars they created their union - hands grasping at each other like they would both fade away any second, kissing until they were out of breath.

They parted too soon for Lance's liking. He longed for infinite air so that he'd never run out and never have to remove himself from Keith. Keith, this mysterious and dark stranger he had just met. Keith, a bad boy who had a reason to be. Thinking of this again, Lance stroked light across Keith's cheeks - pale and faint but lighting up a glowing red when he touched the skin.

"Listen, Keith-" he started without thinking. "I can- I can help you get the money."

Keith's eyes opened, big and bright in the silent darkness of the moment. "What?"

"Yeah. I can get you 1500 GAC, no problem. My family has tons of it. We practically don't know what to do with it." Lance was murmuring, like he had once done at the castle as part of some etiquette crap.

"No- no, I can't accept it." Keith shook his head gently, his gaze trained on some point on the grass. "I have to get it myself."

"How're you going to do that?" Lance asked. "In all honesty, you're broke. You need money. You need treatment. So if you wanna save your family, stop being stupid and just accept the money."

Abruptly Keith shut up, and stared at Lance in silence. "Okay, okay."

"You're welcome," Lance grinned. "Seriously, it's nothing to me. I can totally cover for you if my parents even notice - which they probably won't because they never check their bank account."

"Lance, I don't know how or if I'll be able to pay you back," warned Keith, eyebrows raised. By now Lance was not gripping him in his arms anymore, his own arms were free to settle self-consciously atop his skirts.

"Then don't." Lance shrugged. "I'm not asking you to pay me back at all. In fact, don't. I'm trying to teach my parents a lesson."

Keith hesitated.

\--  
Keith.  
\--

Keith hesitated. On the one hand, he needed the money badly. On the other, he didn't want to take it from a guy he'd just met, even if he was starting to fall in love with him. He'd never be able to repay it, and he risked pushing Lance away just like he'd pushed away everyone else in his life.

His hands crept up to cross across his chest. "Thanks." he murmured, cautious with his tone so he didn't come off ungrateful.

Lance smiled at him fondly. "Don't mention it, man."  
With that, he flopped down to his bottom on the grass and lay underneath the stars. Keith regarded him from high up. "So what do you wanna do now? We've got the whole night to kill."

Keith's cheeks burned red at the first thought that came into his brain, nodding at the second, which was considerably more appropriate. "Uhm, I'd be down to looking at the stars," he suggested, flopping down beside the Prince.

Lance reached over without a beat and wrenched one of Keith's hands away from his own lap, linking their fingers together. "Sounds good. You know any constellations?"

Keith shook his head. "No. Never learned. You?"

"Sure I do. What do you expect? That one over there is Ursa Major… oh, that one is the Big Dipper... There's the-"

"How are you seeing all of those?" Keith asked, incredulous. He could barely connect two of the stars, let alone classify a jagged formation.

Lances shrugged, the hand that was overtop of Keith's lifting slightly. "Practice I guess. Plus all the boring lessons that have taken up my entire life since I was little."

"Teach me." Keith said quickly, loud in the silence.

"Oh- okay. Sure. Well, see those stars there?" Lance pointed them out, tracing down the line they seemed to make with his index finger. "It kinda forms a shape. You can see it when you look hard enough."

Keith watched intently. He wasn't studying the stars, however - he was staring at Lance's face. Now he could see that the Prince had freckles faint but frank across his nose, disguised slightly by his cocoa-coloured skin. He felt lovesick - truly sick from the instantaneous love blossoming and exploding in his heart for the Prince.

He cut him off in the middle of his sentence to press their lips together, because he could.

\--  
Lance.  
\--

Lance breathed heavily after he broke Keith's kiss, feeling a mental arousal at his touch. "You know what, we can talk about stars later," he murmured, and earned a grin. He pulled himself into Keith again with a grip on his mullet to anchor himself. This one was hard and bruising, full of desire and lust.

"Lance… I -" Keith started. His voice cracked. "Uh, are we-"

Lance smiled. "Only if you want to."  
His skin was flaring - Keith gripped his shoulder and burned him in the best way. "So you want to?"

"Hell _yes._ " Keith muttered.  
He undid Lance's outfit carefully, as if ripping it would instantly pulverize him. "Sorry, I just- this is-"  
His face was glowing red even in the black of night. Lance wanted him to rip the garments off him.

He decided to take his hands and guide them to the nape of his own neck, where the first button was. 

Keith didn't say anything as his fumbling hands unclasped the oufit or when Lance sat up to slip out of it. "You want to take your dress off now?" he asked, eyeing the fabric.

Keith pulled it over his head without question. This allowed Lance to glimpse the other guy's muscles. "Oh my - _quiznak_ , you're hot." he breathed.

Without a word Keith sat and then laid down, and Lance climbed atop him.

Keith's blush rivaled the sun's fiery gaze.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and it only just occured to me to post it. Gosh, it's long, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. 
> 
> \--Sorry about the cliffhanger... Guess it's up to you guys what happens next~


End file.
